


Like Knowing You

by PeroxidePirate



Category: Provost's Dog - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeroxidePirate/pseuds/PeroxidePirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kel and the pages are in the library, choosing books for a history assignment, when Kel happens on something interesting: a book about a Lady Knight from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Biography

Kel dragged book after book off the library shelf, inspecting each one briefly before returning it to its place.

“You still haven't decided?” Merric asked, with an exaggerated shake of his head.

“It's just an essay,” Seaver said, helpfully. “Pick anyone. It can't matter that much.”

Kel started to reply when a noise drew her attention to the other end of the room. It was Owen, muttering as he peered into an oversized tome. Neal looked over his shoulder, equally fascinated. The two of them had gone straight to the oldest, most esoteric books in the library to make their choices.

“Kel, come here!” Owen called.

“What is it?” she asked, crossing the room.

Neal read off the title of the book. “_The Fox of the Eastern Hills: Lady Knight Sabine of Macayhill._”


	2. By Hand

“You wish to borrow this book, page?” asked the priest-librarian.

“Yes, sir,” Kel replied.

“See to it you are very careful with it,” he commanded. “A hundred and fifty years ago, there were no printed books. This one is hand lettered. Did you know that?”

Kel's father was a scholar, and she'd listened to Neal and Owen talking about books often enough. “Yes, sir,” she repeated.

The priest scowled at Kel. “In fact, there's something else about this volume.” He flipped through the pages, then held out the open book. “The brown pages – like so – are the actual letters of Lady Sabine, bound into the book. Make sure you take especial care of it.”

Fascinated, Kel studied the bold handwriting on that brown page. “Yes, sir,” she said, a third time. She reached out and took the book.


	3. Details

  
The first thing Kel did when she returned to her quarters was browse through the book for the letters written by Lady Sabine. The author – Sabine's great-nephew, it turned out – seemed to have included every scrap of paper his illustrious relation had ever scribbled upon: duty rosters, expense accounts, supply lists, reports to the crown, and personal letters were all bound into the book.

Kel knew the rosters and reports would form the basis for the essay she'd been assigned to write, and there was certainly plenty of material to work from. But in truth, she found the personal letters the most interesting. Some of them, she found, were very personal indeed.


	4. Reminded

_Ash,_

Thanks ever so for the reminder of what I'm missing. I'm so very pleased to know you are enjoying yourself in Corus while I'm stuck in this sarden scummer-trough hill camp. When I tell you I have mud everywhere, you know I mean it – everywhere, included places even you might not think to look. And no, it didn't get there the fun way (not like that time at the lake – you remember?)

Ah, well, I shall distract myself with fond memories of you, and lakeshores, and fantasies about how we'll remove all this mud when I at last make it back.

As ever,  
Sabine

  
Kel's cheeks burned pink as she finished reading. Was the letter really about..? Hurriedly, she turned the page. Maybe Lady Sabine had gotten a reply.


	5. The Face of It

_My dear Ash,_

Thank you for the suggestion. If you truly don't mind, maybe I'll find someone to take me up on it. Some of the village lads and lasses are quite comely, and having been in these hills all their lives, they surely must know a thing or two about the removal of mud.

I won't ask a fellow knight, though. We're soldiers, remember, and have that distressing tendency to die in the line of duty. I get attached too easily. My dear, I am thankful – again – that you are a stronger person than I.

I'll stop being gloomy, now, and since I promised not to bore you with the details of war, I'd better send this letter on its way.

With love,  
Sabine

  
The field report dated nearest that letter listed 2 knights and 15 soldiers among the fallen. According to the book's accompanying text, it was one of the worst battles of the entire campaign.

Kel read the text in amazement, then reread the letter. Who was this Lady Sabine, who could show such a brave, and even playful, face in times of so much trouble? And who was the mysterious Ash, who inspired Sabine to such love?


	6. Intrusion

“Are you still reading?” Owen asked, bouncing into Kel's room.

She looked up, startled. “What? Oh, hello.”

“I said, are you still reading about Lady Sabine?”

“It's a long book!” Kel answered, defensively. “And the essay's due in a week.”

“It's only supposed to be three pages, though! I finished mine yesterday.”

“Well, I haven't started mine yet.”

“Put the book away for a while, and practice staff work with me?” Owen suggested.

Kel shook her head. “I'm in the middle of this. I'll lose my place...”

“Please?” he said, eyes still hopeful. “That's just a book.”

Kel sighed. “All right.” She reluctantly put down it down and stood up.


	7. Bravery

_My dear Ash,_

You looby, of course I have no intention of getting myself killed out here. I didn't mean to worry you. If I know court gossip, rumor will have you thinking things are much worse than they really are.

I'm sorry to hear that some of our smiling monarch's disapproval has rubbed off on you. I don't suggest lying to the king, of course, but mayhap if you mention that I've made a very close friend out here, he'll simply presume that you and I are through? That should make things a bit easier for you.

(Between us, my new friend doesn't have your touch, love – but then, who does? I'm still counting the days until this blasted campaign is over. You know not to mention that part to His Majesty.)

Always,  
Sabine

  
Kel shook her head. One day, she thought, maybe I'll be as brave as Lady Sabine. She didn't think she'd ever be as casual about relationships as Sabine seemed to be about hers – but she had to admit, that part was fascinating, too.

And she still had no clue who Sabine's lover actually was. The book included letters Sabine had written, but none that she had received. It was also frustratingly sparse on personal details, focusing far more on politics. When Sabine did eventually marry, her husband's name was not Ashcroft, Ashton, or any other name that was likely to shorten to “Ash.”

Kel decided she would have to do more research.


	8. Copywrite

“Kel! Come in.” Neal opened the door wider.

Kel hovered in the doorway. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

Neal leaned against the doorframe. “Yes?”

“That book I'm reading, about Lady Knight Sabine of Macayhill? It includes a lot of letters she wrote, but none that were written to her. I thought you might know why.”

“Um.” Neal considered for a moment, hair flopping into his face, and Kel had the urge to reach out and push it back.

Unbidden, she remembered a line from one of Sabine's letters. _I miss the way your hair falls in your eyes, though I was always telling you to cut it..._

“Here it is,” Neal said, picking up a book. “The ruling was passed in the time of Jonathan the Second: the author of a document, or his or her heir, is the only person who holds the right to publish that document.”

Kel sighed. “Which means what?”

“Your lady's nephew must have been her heir, so he could publish her words. But if he wanted to publish letters sent to _her,_ he would have needed permission from whoever wrote the letters.”


	9. Devotion

_Ash (if I may I still call you that?),_

I know I gave you some suggestions for making peace with His Majesty, but really, this seems a little extreme.

I should be polite enough to wish you all the best – future happiness, many smiling children, and so on. Please forgive me when I don't. I think one of the best points of our relationship is that we've never lied to one another. It would be absurd to start now, don't you think?

I've been asked to sign on for another tour of duty out here. Given the situation now, I think I'd better take it. I'm not prepared to face you, or him, just yet.

If we don't see each other again, know that I will always remain

Your devoted subject,  
Lady Knight Sabine of Macayhill

  
Kel stared, opened-mouthed, at the page before her.


	10. Proof

The hall contained portraits of every king and queen Tortall had ever had. King Roger's portrait was located halfway down, on the left side. Kel approached with butterflies in her stomach. The king looked out at her, with black hair, mustache, and the unmistakable Conte nose. To his right were two other portraits, for he had married twice. It was the second one that drew Kel's eye: the young woman was beautiful.

More than that, there was something intriguingly mischievous in her bright blue eyes. There was something about the wave of her red-blond hair that caused Kel to picture it falling across her face, as a sturdy, brown haired lady knight nuzzled her neck.

But perhaps Kel was mistaken. Perhaps Sabine's letter had meant something else.

She stepped closer, until she could read the name plate affixed below the portrait itself. It read, “Queen Melinda Ashlin of Conte.”


	11. Always

Armed with her astonishing new piece of knowledge, Kel returned to her room and shut herself in. She touched _The Fox of the Eastern Hills: Lady Knight Sabine of Macayhill_ again, running fingers over the textured brown paper that composed duty rosters, supply lists, and letters to friends, family, and a lover – a woman who became queen.

Melinda Ashlin of Conte.

Finally, Kel opened the book to the letter that had most intrigued her, and read it through once more. This time, she understood.

  
_My Ash,_

Forgive the tone of this letter, I beg you. It is Beltane, and I am alone, and missing you more than ever. I miss the shape of your lips, the feel of your breath on my skin, the sweet honey of you. I miss the way your hair falls in your eyes, though I was always telling you to cut it. I miss your laugh, and your grace, and the look on your face whenever you get a good idea. I even miss your tendency to get us both in trouble, more often than not, even if it is (indirectly) the reason I got shipped out here in the first place.

My love, whoever helps you to celebrate this holiday, I hope there is something about him that reminds you of me.

There, now, don't worry. I won't gush like this again, for I know you'll say I'm being hopelessly sentimental. Only, know that I love you.

Yours always,  
Sabine


End file.
